Stay
by WinterSky101
Summary: A WtNV fic. Carlos wakes up because someone's shaking him. They're doing it gently and altogether respectfully, but there's still the matter of someone being in his house. His bedroom, no less. It's more than enough to wake Carlos up immediately. Cecil/Carlos. Post-One Year Later.


**When it comes to Cecil/Carlos fluff, I am so, so very weak. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own WtNV.**

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Carlos wakes up because someone's shaking him. They're doing it gently and altogether respectfully, but there's still the matter of someone being in his house. His bedroom, no less. It's more than enough to wake Carlos up immediately.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" he demands immediately. He's more awake than he would have expected, but then again, this is a situation that requires awareness.

"Carlos the Scientist," a voice replies from behind a thick balaclava. It belongs to the deputy of the Sheriff's Secret Police, an unexpected and pretty much unwanted visitor. Carlos doesn't mention that as he sits up, turning on the lights. The deputy is dressed in the standard gear for the Sheriff's Secret Police and carrying a blowgun that makes Carlos a little uncomfortable with its proximity.

"What is it, Deputy?" Carlos asks respectfully. (Carlos has no clue what pronouns the deputy prefers, and he doesn't want to find out what the punishment for misgendering the deputy of the Sheriff's Secret Police is.) "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," the deputy, whose name Carlos either doesn't remember or never knew, replies. "Well, at least, as far as I know, you haven't. If you have, we'll find out. But that's not why I'm here now."

"Then why are you here?" Carlos asks, a bit worried. The deputy sighs.

"Look, normally I wouldn't do this, but Cecil's a friend," the deputy (he? she? something else entirely? Carlos still isn't sure) begins. Carlos's blood runs cold.

"Is something wrong with Cecil?"

"Not exactly, no," the deputy replies. "Not in the normal way. But he's a bit of a mess right now, and I think you're the one that could help the most."

In that moment, Carlos couldn't care less that he almost died earlier that day and is still covered in wounds and incredibly sore. He jumps out of bed, pulls the closest lab coat over his pajamas, and runs out the door. The deputy in his bedroom is forgotten in his haste. He knows where Cecil lives, thankfully, and Carlos forgoes his car for walking; it's not far. Walking turns into jogging, which turns into running, which turns into sprinting. At that speed, Carlos gets to Cecil's in a matter of minutes. He barely manages to restrain himself from frantically banging on the door when he gets there. Instead, Carlos gently raps three times. No one answers, but the door opens, as if by itself. Carlos suspects one of the Sheriff's Secret Police officers unlocked it for him.

Carlos has never been in Cecil's house before, so he takes a moment to look around as he enters. It's a lot more normal than Carlos expected. Sure, there's a large bloodstone circle in the living room, but other than that, everything seems like it came out of an IKEA catalogue.

Suddenly, Carlos hears a horrified sound echo through the house. It's coming from down the hall, so Carlos quickly makes his way to its source. One of the doors in the hallway is slightly ajar. It leads to Cecil's bedroom. Feeling as if he's intruding but unwilling to leave, Carlos slips inside quietly. Cecil is on his bed, tossing and turning. "No," he gasps. "No, Carlos, no!"

Suddenly, it all makes sense, why the deputy went to Carlos, of all people. "Cecil?" Carlos asks cautiously. It doesn't make a difference; Cecil's nightmare continues. "Cecil? I'm right here. I'm alright."

"Carlos, please," Cecil begs, his voice choked with tears. Carlos can't let this go on any more. With sure movements, he crosses the room and gathers Cecil up in his arms. Cecil struggles for a moment before his hands latch onto Carlos' lab coat.

"Carlos?" he whispers. He's still asleep, but Carlos hopes his presence will turn Cecil's dream into a better one.

"I'm right here, Cecil," Carlos whispers, allowing Cecil to practically climb into his lap. "I'm right here, and I'm fine. I promise."

"Carlos…" Cecil starts to cry, clutching at Carlos' coat with a white-knuckled grip. He's still asleep, which Carlos finds slightly surprising. "I thought you were going to die."

"I didn't," Carlos replies, running his fingers through Cecil's hair calmingly. "I'm right here, I'm alive, I'm fine. I promise."

"Carlos…" Cecil mumbles, slumping down against Carlos' chest. Carlos shifts him gently until Cecil is using Carlos' lap as a pillow. His nightmare seems to be gone, to Carlos' relief. With a soft sigh, Carlos leans his head against the wall behind him, his fingers still running through Cecil's hair.

Carlos didn't _mean_ to fall asleep, but he must have, because the next thing he knows, Cecil is stirring in his lap, blinking like a kitten. "Carlos?" Cecil whispers, looking up with surprise in his eyes. "You're really here? I thought that was just a dream."

"I'm really here," Carlos replies, suddenly aware of how incredibly sore he is. "The deputy of the Sheriff's Secret Police asked me to come over. You were having a nightmare."

"I remember," Cecil replies, frowning slightly. "I thought you were dead. And then you weren't and you were holding me and-" Cecil looks up at Carlos. "You were really here?"

"I was really here," Carlos repeats. "I guess I fell asleep. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, perfect Carlos!" Cecil cries quickly. "You're always welcome here. I'm glad you came over, and I'm glad you got some sleep."

"Yes, well, I'll leave now," Carlos replies, slightly thrown by the fact that Cecil just called him "perfect Carlos." Cecil's eyes go wide.

"You have to at least stay for breakfast!" he protests. "I was going to make pancakes. No wheat or wheat by-products, of course. Wouldn't you like some?"

"If it's not imposing too much…" Carlos begins shyly. Cecil's face lights up.

"It's not imposing at all!" he replies, sounding thrilled. "I'll go start cooking right now. Do you want anything before I go? You had a near-death experience yesterday; do you want some painkillers?"

"What type do you have?" Carlos asks, not sure he wants Night Vale painkillers.

"Advil, Tylenol, and a tincture from the heart of a doe," Cecil lists off. Carlos nods slowly.

"I'll have some Tylenol, if that's okay," he replies.

"The tincture from the heart of a doe is probably more effective," Cecil offers. Carlos shakes his head firmly. "Very well, if you insist." Cecil pulls a bottle of Tylenol out from under his mattress - Carlos does not want to know why it's there - and offers it to Carlos, who gratefully accepts a few pills that he swallows dry.

"Alright, I'll go get started on the pancakes!" Cecil chirps. "Do you want to come to the kitchen with me or stay here, Carlos?"

"I'll come with you," Carlos replies, standing. Cecil beams.

"Wonderful! Let's go!"

Despite the fact that Cecil puts quite a few things into the pancakes that Carlos never thought to put in pancakes before, they turn out pretty good. Cecil keeps physical contact with Carlos at least a little through the entire breakfast, which, while unexpected, is not unwanted. As Cecil takes Carlos' plate, not allowing him to get up to put it in the dishwasher himself, Carlos finds that he's glad he stayed.


End file.
